


Burgundy Red

by transphil



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Fluff, Homophobia, M/M, waiter!dan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-19
Updated: 2015-08-19
Packaged: 2018-04-15 10:51:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4603980
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transphil/pseuds/transphil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on this prompt: "i was at work today serving a family of 4 and I could hear the mother and father making homophobic comments about me behind my back because of the way I look but the joke’s on them because when I opened up Grindr and their son popped up on it so now i’m talking to him and he wants to take me on a date"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Burgundy Red

Everything in life is subjective.

For Dan, your seemingly average teenage boy, this much was evident. After 17 years of panic attacks and existential crises, he knew that there was no such thing as a “universal truth”. He was well aware that there was no such thing as “right” or “wrong”, that, unfortunately, it wasn't all just black and white. He had learned, after all that time, that judging someone was dangerous, because most of the time you were looking at the other person from another perspective. He had learned that, often, what he had been taught to be the simple truth, turned out to be false after all.

Though he strived to always keep those things in mind, and to be the best person he could possibly be, he was certain of one thing in life...

“God, I'm glad I never worked as a waiter, they all look like fucking homos in those idiotic suits.”

...people are dicks.

_Yes_ , Dan thought, _maybe that was the one and only universal truth._ Because, though walking around on this planet for 17 years had brought him wisdom about ethics, about differences in judgement, and about the fact that every person was, essentially, different, those years had also granted him with the knowledge that, most of the time people were, in fact, unbelievably dense creatures. Sometimes, walking around as one of the – admittedly – less dense creatures was an atrocious experience.

But Dan had learned to accept that “ignorance is bliss”, and that that much desired bliss was not meant for him. He had learned to live his life in his own way. The bright young man that he had grown up to be was beaming through the ugly remnants of bullying and isolation in his younger years: though there had been many battles, Dan could now proudly proclaim that the war had been won.

So when, on one beautiful Saturday evening, Dan was strutting around in the picturesque little restaurant "The Erinyes" in his neat white shirt and black trousers, two plates in his hands and too much cutlery in his pockets, he merely rolled his eyes when one of the newly-arrived guests took a look at him, raised an eyebrow and blatantly declared to the rest of his company how much he hated “idiotic suits” and “fucking homos”.

“I wish they'd all stay inside and keep with their own sort. I don't want _them fags_ near my food, Lord knows what they put in it with they filthy little hands,” the man continued. Turning his head and shifting one of the plates to his other hand, Dan caught a glimpse of him – nothing that surprised him there, if he was being honest. His eyes glazed over what he could only call an average suburban family: a bald and angry-looking husband (evidently the one who had made the comments), a moderately beautiful housewife, a stunning and obviously promising daughter, and next to her a boy of Dan's age,  maybe a brother or possibly her boyfriend. It was a bit too much of a cliché, even for Dan who, secretly, had a knack for romantic comedies and juicy soaps.

The man had, by now, probably felt Dan's stare on his back, because he turned around and shot him a filthy look.

He had brown eyes, piercing brown, lunatic brown, _like his father_ , Dan thought, before turning his back on the family and locating the table that he had been heading towards. Table 42, on his right, with – thank God –  two friendly-looking young women. With a smile and renewed confidence, he made his way towards them.

Some people found it boring, working in a small restaurant like “The Erinyes”, but Dan loved it. Sure, he had had to get used to it at first. When he had just started, the job had proved to be quite the challenge: the customers more often than not demonstrated a vicious temperament when mistakes were made, and simply carrying plates without dropping half of the peas on the floor was a whole new level of difficult. But after two years of hard work, determination and (mostly) his desperate need for money, he had finally started to like working in the small diner. The owner, Megan, had ended up becoming one of his closest friends and many a lonely night were spent with her, drinking beer and reminiscing about the past.

Apart from Megan, there were the customers, who, when they weren't insulting one of the members of the staff or screaming about steaks being overcooked, could be quite pleasant. There were the smiles on the customers' faces when they liked the food, or the joy on their faces whenever a birthday was celebrated with tiramisu and chocolate cake. There was the merriment on the kids' faces when their parents bought them ice-cream, or the desperately-in-love-but-we're-not-together couples who drank hot chocolate with whipped cream during the dark winter hours. Seeing his customers happy quite often brought a smile to Dan's own face.

It was lovely, Dan had discovered. If experiencing all those lovely moments meant that he occasionally had to deal with sour customers, Dan didn't mind at all.

Though he had never been overly confident (one of the regretful remains of his childhood), he wasn't extravagantly shy either. Having a job that involved being around people most of the time didn't allow you to be that, Dan had realized after working in the restaurant for a week. So, after delivering his plates to the lovely women at table 42 (who thanked him, and flashed him grateful smiles)  he prepared himself for the worst and took a deep breath. He turned around, faced the suburban assholes, grabbed his little blue notebook, and prepared himself for taking their orders.

His smile, one that he had practised long on, didn't even seem to be entirely fake, though it didn't reach his eyes.

With proximity came lucidity: nearby, the mother's features didn't appear to be as sharp as they had seemed from far away. She was smiling at her daughter, and patting her hand with her own, whilst the father was scowling profoundly. The boy, who he had thought to be part of the family, now seemed to Dan to be unrelated to the rest: his features were too distinct from the other three to possibly be next of kin. Where the family was constructed of blonde hair and hard faces, the boy was dark-haired and soft. He seemed natural.

Even his smile, when Dan approached, seemed real, though he was blushing, and looked down at the table when Dan caught his eye. Caught up in the boy's smile, Dan was a bit overwhelmed when his eyes drifted towards the husband again, and found him, unfortunately, to be a lot more intimidating up close. He was muscled, arms red and tensed where they were lying on the table, jaw locked and eyebrows furrowed. He was evidently trying to keep his temper, fingers twitching in feverish annoyance.

But Dan didn't bat an eye, pushed on, and it was _five, four, three_ steps and then he was in front of the table, holding the menus up with his right hand, and flashing a bright smile.

“Good evening, welcome at “the Erinyes”. My name is Dan and I'll be your waiter for today.”

There wasn't much of a reaction, except maybe from the boy, who still seemed to be hiding a faint blush on his pale cheeks. He looked up for a second, briefly, when Dan looked at him. Striking blue eyes, dark hair, and, _yes_ , definitely a blush on his cheeks. Dan smiled, a genuine one this time, and winked at the boy before putting the menus down on the table.

“Have you already decided what you would like to drink?”

Everything went in its usual way after that. All four of them ordered (a beer, two glasses of wine, orange juice), Dan smiled again and finally left them with their menus, only to return a minute later with the tray full of drinks in his hand. He  smiled, put the drinks down, they thanked him, and he was off again, moving from table to table, from face to face, bringing dishes and drinks, collecting the empty plates and glasses, an endless scroll of food and people and smiles and chatter.

He caught the boy's eye, just once, when he was busy at another table. He felt the single pair of eyes fixed on his back, and a quick glance over his shoulder gave him another view of that dark hair and those rosy cheeks.

And then disaster struck.

 

 

♦ ♦ ♦

Jack called for him, needed him in the kitchen, because apparently one of the interns had dropped a pan full of sauce and it needed cleaning, _god damn it_ , as if Dan hadn't been busy enough. The kitchen floor was moist with burgundy red, a red wine sauce spreading all over. He tried to clean it swiftly, efficiently, with some toilet paper that he had found under the sink, but he was soon mopping up the sticky liquid with a light towel that instantly turned bright red when he put it on the ground.

Ten minutes later he was finally washing his hands and picking up his deserted tray. His mind, quick as ever, was already busy trying to remember what he had been doing when Jack had called him, examining the people and scanning the room. The room seemed to have changed drastically in those ten wasted minutes when he had been cleaning up, as if every customer had been replaced in the time he had been scrubbing the floor.

Whilst his eyes were swerving over the different faces, he caught the boy's eyes again. With a shock, he came back to life. _Right_ , food to serve, orders to take. He found himself picking up some empty plates and delivering a receipt, taking some new orders and complaining to Jack about the music, before he was walking towards the suburban table again. There he was, once more, the angry man with those angry eyes. The blue-eyed boy was still there too, luckily, so he didn't mind too much when he saw that the angry man's face seemed even more red, even more tensed. He was talking animatedly to his wife, and even from across the room Dan could hear the words spilling from his mouth.

“You see, they're always fucking up, that's what's wrong with them. I don't care what they put in their _god damn_ asses, but they're good for nothing, that's what the problem is...”

_So_ , Dan thought, _that was what it was going to be like for the rest of the night._

But before he could change his plan and go to a different table first, the man was already waving him over. Dan swallowed. Life was shit, sometimes.

The fake smile reappeared and he was opening his mouth for a greeting and an apology when he was cut off. The man, who had evidently seem him coming towards the table, had prepared his accusation long before Dan had had the chance to defend himself.

“There you are, fucking _finally_ ,” the man spat. “Took you a while, didn't it? We've been waiting for more than 15 minutes now,” he exclaimed. Dan grimaced. The man was right, of course, _the customer is king_ and all that, but Dan found himself gritting his teeth anyway. They were already short on staff, and, really, it had hardly been ten minutes.

“I'm very sorry, sir. I will make sure it doesn't happen again,” he replied. Though the man was still tensed and merely rolled his eyes in answer to Dan's apology, he seemed content for now, and moved on.

“Anyway, I'll be having the steak with red wine sauce and–”

_Oh for God's sake._

“I'm sorry, sir,” Dan interrupted gently, “but we don't have any red wine sauce at the moment.” He tried to smile apologetically, really, he _did_ , but he was so _damn_ tired of the whiny customers that all seemed to have appeared on the same night, that the smile probably ended up looking more like a grimace. Dan couldn't bring himself to care.

Nothing else than a tirade was to be expected. It began along the lines of “oh you damned fools, you're all scum,” and it ended somewhere with “it's all those blacks and fags that destroy the world.” And it was that, hearing those words after already having had an awful night, what made Dan snap. When the man finally, _finally_ , shut his mouth, when silence had returned to the room, Dan raised his chin defiantly.

“Sir, I must ask you and your family to leave. We will not tolerate homophobia and racism in this restaurant.”

Silence ensued. Tense silence, with Dan's fingers trembling, a big lump stuck in his throat and a drop of sweat rolling down his back. He hated these moments, _why can't people just be nice?_ , but he knew that what he was doing was the best he could. He had realized long ago that the night would probably end either in his home with an enormous headache, or in hospital, because the man looked more than ready to knock Dan's teeth out, but he didn't really care. He'd had enough.

So he stood tall and, though he was trembling more violently with the minute, he was also in no way backing down. The man had crossed the line.

Slowly but gradually, the man started to rise. His face, while he began to stand, was stoic, though red. He looked ready to kill a bear. By now, the other customers had realized what was going on, and were waiting in nervous expectation of how the spectacle would reach its climax. There was a moment in which Dan was sure the people around him could hear his heart pounding, the blood rushing through his veins. He was sure the people around him could _feel_ his anguish.

But the man merely straightened and gave a curt nod.

“Nicole, Claire, Phil; we're going.”

The woman's face dropped instantly. She, too, seemed ready to kill a bear by now. But she kept calm and merely stood up like her husband, only to follow him out the door, lips pursed. The girl and the boy, however, remained seated. The girl didn't seem to feel the way her parents did; instead, she seemed sorry. Her face dropped and she sighed when she turned to the boy next to her.

Dan could hear her mumble a faint apology before she leaned forward to kiss the boy on his cheek.

Dan's fingers twitched.

The girl continued. “I knew this was a bad idea, but I didn't know it would be this bad. I'd better follow them before they wreck the car. Please pay for the drinks? I'll pay you back, I promise,” she added quickly, before she was gone, running after her parents as if they were a pair of escaped convicts.

In the following silence the restaurant seemed to come back to life. Couples started talking again, and families turned back to the plates in front of them. Dan remained still, in front of the table, where the boy sighed and looked up. He was biting his lip again, but not in the way he had, just moments before. He seemed embarrassed, raising his eyes to meet Dan's with effort.

He seemed nice, though, very much unlike the rest of the family. Seeing him in so much distress, Dan couldn't help but smile back reassuringly. Now he was alone with the boy he felt more comfortable instantly. His trembling had stopped, _thank God_ , and he could think rationally again. Stupid though it might be, he needed to get the boy to pay the receipt, or his boss wouldn't be happy with him. Angry customers were bad, angry customers who _left_ were worse, but angry customers who left without _paying_... Dan was lucky that he knew that his boss, Megan, would never fire him for anything like this, but still, the boy was there, and Dan didn't want any trouble.

“I'm sorry for the disturbance,” the other boy was saying. He looked down at his hands, which were nervously fumbling with the tablecloth. He was still biting his lip when he looked up again, distress evident in his eyes. It almost seemed like he was more agitated by the trouble than Dan was. “Please don't blame them, I– ” he faltered, “I tried to stop them but– ”

He scratched his head and looked down.

“I hope they didn't offend you or the other customers too much...”

Horrible though the situation might have been, Dan couldn't help but smile. The boy seemed so nice, so caring, that the corners of Dan's mouth turned up immediately. He took a step forward, and gently put a hand on his shoulder.

It was dangerous, doing this. Though the situation wasn't exactly normal, customers were always difficult. Too much distance from them was bad, but being too close and caring wasn't good either. There was a fine balance between the two, and many lines that were not to be crossed. Dan was well aware that he was about to cross one, that touching customers was not really a thing he was supposed to do, even when it was just a pat on his shoulder.

But something in those blue eyes, something in that face, made Dan reach forward anyway.

“Don't worry about it, it's not your fault,” he stated.

The boy raised his eyes, and then their eyes met again. Dan gulped. The boy licked his lips.

Dan's hand was still on the boy's shoulder and, _holy shit_ , it should have been awkward and it should have been weird, but it was not. The shirt under his fingertips was soft and warm and he could feel the skin under the fabric. Their eyes were still locked, silent conversations seemed to pass between them.

_It's okay, don't worry._

_Alright._

Dan's finger twitched.

_Are we on the same page?_

_Yes, we are._

The moment passed and Dan pulled his hand back. His heart was beating in his chest when he adjusted his shirt. The boy opposite him seemed just as agitated, coughing softly and eyes dashing around the room.

“I'll just pay the receipt, then.”

_Okay, back to business._

“Sure, I'll be back in a second.

“Take your time.”

 

 

♦ ♦ ♦

 

Now problem one (getting the receipt to be paid) was solved, problem two was presenting itself rapidly. They were still short on staff, there was still no red wine sauce, and customers were waiting. It didn't take long before the incident was pushed far into the back of his mind and he was focussing on the task at hand. Serving people, back to dashing from table to table, holding bottles of wine and plates full of potatoes and pasta.

Of course he hadn't _really_ forgotten about bringing the receipt, in contrary: the blue eyes were present in the back of his mind at all times. Between serving the couple at table 42 and grabbing drinks for the family at table 23, he was constantly stealing glances at the boy, who, most of the time, was staring right back. He didn't seem to mind waiting, was comfortably seated at the table, sipping from his wine and following Dan with his eyes.

It should have been creepy, but it was strangely enticing.

Fifteen minutes later the boy was still there, but his glass was empty, so Dan decided it was time to bring their little game to an end. He adjusted his shirt, took a deep breath, and then, with the receipt and some peppermint on a small dish, Dan was making his way towards the boy again. By now, Dan was trembling again, but this time it was for a whole other reason.

There was a smug grin on the boy's face when Dan reached his table. “Back so soon?” he asked, and Dan smiled. He was blushing, _for God's sake_ , and this hadn't happened to him in a long time and _it wasn't supposed to be happening._ But here he was, in front of the boy who raised an eyebrow at him, the right corner of his mouth turned up slightly, and there wasn't much Dan could do besides smiling even brighter and biting his lip.

“Yeah, well,” he mumbled, “you can't keep a boy like you waiting forever, do you?”

The other boy grinned. “You _can_ if you have a pretty face like yours.”

Dan looked up with wide eyes then, his mouth slightly open and tongue darting out to wet his lips. He looked just in time to see the other bite his lip as well. His eyes were sparkling, though his round cheeks were slightly red.

“Why thank you, sir,” Dan responded with a shy grin, which was immediately mirrored on the other's face. “One would almost be inclined to suggest having a drink after I finish work.”

“So why don't you?” he retorted.

“Oh, that's simple,” Dan grinned. The light from the candle on the table fell onto the boy's face, lighting up the excitement in his eyes and making his pale skin look almost translucent. “I don't date boys I don't know the name of,” he finished.

The boy laughed. If Dan hadn't been head over heels before, he surely was now. The boy's laugh was simply... _was simply angelic_. His whole face lit up and his tongue poked out slightly to the left. The impossible blue of his eyes seemed to turn even more captivating, capturing Dan's heart as if those eyes had tiny claws grabbing hold of Dan's soul and not letting go of it. Dan looked down and, _God_ , his legs felt weak and his heart was fluttering in his chest. But he smiled, he smiled anyway, because he couldn't believe this was actually happening.

“Phil,” he giggled. “That's my name. Now how about that drink after work?”

Dan grinned. “Cheeky. Well Phil, my name is Dan and I get off at eleven. We could meet in front of the restaurant around ten past eleven, or you could just wait here and drink some more wine. It's on the house.”

Phil winked.

“I think I'll wait here.”

 

 

♦ ♦ ♦

 

He had never stolen so many glances at somebody before.

Put down a plate, turn around, and there he is, Phil. Walk towards the kitchen and grab the drinks for table five, turn around, and there he is, Phil. Ask the couple at table nine if everything is okay, turn around, and there he is, _Phil_.

Glances at his hair, at his eyes and at his hands. At his fingers, clasped around his drink, and at his mouth, turning up into a smile whenever they caught each other's eyes.

Half an hour passed, and then another one, and Dan was getting tired but the boy kept him sane. The black hair and the blue eyes and the pale skin, the red jacket and the black trousers, and everything else that he was, sitting there at that table, giggling and winking whenever Dan passed him. Dan was tired, exhausted, so tired that half an hour later he almost forgot to bring the receipt to table 11, but the thought of the boy, of _Phil_ , kept him standing.

_And he didn't even know the boy._

But maybe that was what it made it all so special for Dan. He had never met somebody like this before, never experienced this feeling. He had never felt his heart flutter so much in the space of two hours, had never felt his fingers start trembling whenever he was near him. It was all so strange and all so _new_ , all so _intoxicating_ , and so, _so_ beautiful.

 

 

♦ ♦ ♦

 

At eleven sharp Megan gave him a pat on his shoulder and told him to go home. The day had been long, she said, and he deserved some peace. With a grateful smile on his face, Dan waved goodbye, knowing that peace was probably the last thing he would be getting. But that was okay.

His heart was thumping in anticipation and his hands were sweaty when he walked – he surely wasn't running – up the stairs towards the little dressing room where employees usually changed for work. There, he had a fresh change of clothes waiting for him. He was lucky, he realized when he changed his shirt and looked at his chest, that he always had the opportunity to change in the restaurant. There was nothing wrong with the white shirt and neat black trousers that he usually wore around the place, but when going on a date he much preferred his own beige sweater and dark skinnies.

He threw a last nervous glance in the mirror. His trousers seemed fine, his sweater looked nice – his chest was flat and his hips were concealed – and, _fringe check_ , his hair was good. He was ready.

He took his steps slowly, one by one, towards the staircase. His right hand touched the light wall, fingers sliding over the  stark paint. He made his way downstairs. When he reached the last step, his mind whirled, suddenly. It was only natural, he thought, that he was anxious, but it felt wrong anyway.

_Maybe he had just disappeared. Maybe he had changed his mind. Maybe he didn't like Dan after all._

But he was still there, waiting, looking out the window with a peaceful smile on his face.

The room had quieted in the time that Dan had been upstairs. Soft classical music was playing in the background, _Beethoven_. Phil's head seemed to sway, slightly, to the rhythm of the violins, his eyes fluttering shut when the suspension built. The candle had gone out by now and the only light illuminating him were the small red standing lamps in the windowsill. The picture of sin.

_God, was he pretty._

Dan took more steps forward, slowly but gradually, until Phil turned around, noticed Dan, and gave a small smile at the sight. Dan stopped in his tracks, stood still for a moment, completely disbelieving of the fact that he, this boy, was there for _him_.

“Welcome back, Mr Dan,” Phil eventually said.

Taking the last few steps, Dan finally reached the table. He sat down opposite Phil. Their feet were almost touching, but not quite, not just yet. “Hello, Mr Phil.”

“You look very good,” was Phil's answer. “I love your sweater. Let's go outside.”

Phil was quick, much quicker than Dan, standing up and shoving the chair back towards the table. He offered Dan a hand before he could stand up on his own. Dan blushed when he took it. He couldn't hide the smile on his face. Naturally, when they reached the door, Phil dashed forward and opened the heavy entrance for Dan with a bright smile on his face. He let it fall shut after him and, side by side, they sauntered into the warm summer air.

It was warm, but pleasant. The rich smell of flowers was in the air, of the lavender placed outside the restaurant windows, of the arrangements of flowers in the vases next to the Erinyes' door. Dan took a deep breath and closed his eyes. It wasn't like he hated the smell of the restaurant, but coming outside after working in such a dense space for several hours was always bliss. A gentle breeze was rustling the leaves of the trees, ruffling through some loose strands of Dan's hair.

He opened his eyes when he felt a small tug on his wrist, and nervously adjusted his sweater.

“So, where'd you want to go?” he asked. He was still fumbling with the hem of his sweater, pulling the fabric downwards and sneaking glances at his chest.

Phil shrugged.

“Whatever you want. All _I_ want is to get to know you, but I can ask you questions wherever we go, so you can decide.”

So they walked on through the city streets, arms awkwardly brushing together. The people around them all seemed to be intoxicated in some way, laughing and yelling, kissing in dark corners. The silence between the two boys wasn't unpleasant, and slowly they walked towards the river, where Dan was leading them. He knew they would be able to sit there, and talk comfortably. Dan never really liked extravagant dates. He merely wanted to be with the other person without having to spend tons of money on boring films that neither of them would end up paying attention to. Phil's words, _all I want is to get to know you_ , rang in his ears, and made him feel safe, for some reason.

When they left the crowded district around them and neared the banks of the river, they started exchanging – apart from glances – softly spoken words about themselves, about who they were. Dan told Phil about the restaurant, how much he liked it there but that he still hoped that he would be able to get a better job in the future. About how he liked taking walks with his camera and how he would often spend too much time thinking about the big mysteries of the universe.

Phil, in return, talked about his family, his brother, and how much he felt connected to them. He talked about his apartment in London where had just moved into, and the disaster with getting his new fridge in place. He mentioned university, and how much he wanted to get a degree in filmmaking, because he really loved doing that. They found they had a shared interest in the arts, both gasping with joy when they found that both of them loved Botticelli and Caravaggio.

When they reached the river they sat down next to each other, and a silence fell. They watched the water streaming by, together, sometimes breaking the silence with a comment about the houses on the other side of the shore, or the birds flying by. After some time the street lamps turned on, illuminating sharp features and soft dimples in a whole other way. Their blushes were hidden in the darkness, but the soft giggles and smiles didn't go unnoticed.

The grass under them was slightly damp, and the night air was slowly turning cooler. Occasionally, someone walked by, or a light in a distant house turned on. When silence fell, the only sounds to be heard were their soft breaths and the rustling of leaves. A group of girls walked by, chatting loudly about some guy called Richard who they had apparently met the night before. When they disappeared from sight, Dan sighed.

“You know, I-” he began, but cut himself off with a small shake of his head before he could continue. Phil, however, looked over and raised his eyebrow questioningly.

Another sigh fell from Dan's lips, and he closed his eyes. “I don't usually feel comfortable around people,” he mumbled.

A man walked by, whistling a tune Dan vaguely recognized. The light from the street lamps was reflected in the river's water, and created curious patterns. He felt Phil's eyes on his face, quietly observing him.

“I never really talk to people,” he added after a while.

Phil shifted and their shoulder softly brushed together.

_God._

A soft chuckle sounded. “So that's why you work in a restaurant,” Phil was saying, “surrounded by people all night.”

“Oh shut up,” Dan retorted gently, and gave Phil's shoulder a slight push. “That's not what I mean.”

The sounds of the flowing water filled up the air where the silence surrounded them like a thick blanket. A dove cooed in the distance, but went unnoticed by the boys.

“I mean,” he continued, “I know how to deal with people. I don't mind making phone calls or going to the supermarket. I don't resent walking through big crowds or meeting someone new. It's just that I never really feel close to people. I never feel comfortable enough to open up, to tell them about myself, about who I am.”

He could feel Phil's eyes on his face again, watching him, observing him. He said nothing for a while, and Phil was silent too. The dove seemed to have disappeared.

“And here you are, opening up to me as if I have known you all my life,” Phil muttered.

“Life is strange, isn't it?”

“Yes.” He sighed. “Yes, it is.”

 

 

♦ ♦ ♦

 

A barrier seemed to have been passed after that, and they talked even more, about life and about death. About what drove Dan, what he wanted to achieve in life, who he aspired to be. About his biggest fears, about the things that drove him mad with anxiety on his worst nights. About what made him smile, about the people he loved with all his heart.

Phil told him more about his childhood, about dreams he had when he had been a child. About the difficulties of adapting to university, about overcoming them, about exploring more of his life. About the times that he felt inexplicably lonely, when he had felt that life would turn out to be nothing in particular. About the people who got him out of that crevice, about the people he would never give up on.

“So who was the girl you were in the restaurant with?” Dan asked after a while. “You didn't seem to like her family very much.”

Mentioning the girl was dangerous, but proved to be the right thing to do. A bright smile instantly appeared on Phil's face when Dan mentioned her. “That was Claire,” he said. “She's my best friend.”

A shadow seemed to cross his face, and he looked down at his hands, which had started fumbling in his lap. He opened his mouth a few times, as if about to speak, but not a sound escaped. It was only when Dan gave him a slight shove and told him to just say what he obviously wanted to say that Phil smiled softly and started to talk.

“You know,” he began, “when I walked into the restaurant this evening with Claire, I really didn't know what to expect. Claire has been my best friend for a long time, and she had warned me from the beginning about her family. They were not like her, she said. When she wasn't at home, she could be herself, she wore the things she wanted to wear, and said the things she wanted to say. But her parents never really liked that. They're kinda – well, you've seen them, you know what they are like.

“But I love Claire to death and would do everything for her, so when she asked me to come tonight because she didn't want to go dining with her parents alone, I agreed, of course. Seeing her in a neat dress and make-up when she picked me up was so wacky, I'd never seen her in a dress before. Needless to say, she looked beautiful in her blue dress and her red lipstick, but I could see that she wasn't comfortable. She told me to ignore it, that it would be fine.

“And it wasn't, as you noticed. Her parents were such dicks, the _whole_ evening, making snide comments about the people we passed on our way to the restaurant and about customers at other tables, but mostly about her, about _Claire_. Her dress wasn't right, and her make-up didn't look good enough. She should have worn heels, according to her Dad, and she couldn't go through life with hair like that.

“I felt so incredibly hopeless, seeing the people who were supposed to love her most make her feel so bad about herself, making her do things that she is not comfortable with, making her a person that she is not.”

He was silent for a while before he continued.

“But I also think that that's one of the things that made her who she is. Constantly having to fight for herself, constantly having to remind herself that she _is_ worth it, that she _can_ be who she really wants to be, that she doesn't _have_ to be like her parents. That's what made her so, _so_ strong. She's so brave, I –,” he faltered, “I can't believe how brave she is. But going through all that shit is what made her into the powerful woman that she is now.”

“That's very inspirational, Phil,” Dan mumbled. He looked at the other boy with a fond look in his eyes, and could see the emotions on the other boy's face. “You must really love her,” he added.

“I do,” Phil sighed. He looked so peaceful, so happy, so incredibly beautiful and serene, that Dan couldn't stop himself when he leaned forward slightly and put his hand on Phil's.

The leaves of grass parted under their touch. There was only the light of the street lamps; there was no moon.

Dan released a shaky breath. Their noses were almost touching, but not quite. He could feel Phil's hand trembling under his, could feel the piercing stare on his face. He felt his own heart beating in his chest, uncomfortably hard.

Then, he leaned forward and planted a gentle kiss on the soft lips, lips that were burgundy red.

When he leaned back, he felt Phil's other hand on his wrist, gripping him and stroking the skin with his thumb. Their eyes met, briefly, before they both released the shaky breaths they had been holding, and giggled feebly. Phil's hand travelled upwards slowly, from Dan's wrist to his shoulder and his neck, until it reached a soft cheek. There it rested, and his thumb continued stroking.

“I really like you, Dan,” he breathed. “I don't think I want to leave you just yet.”

Dan could only nod in response. He opened his mouth to answer, but found himself lacking words. He nodded again, and gripped Phil's hand with his own.

“Can I have your number?”

 

 

♦ ♦ ♦

 

The following morning Dan woke, feeling serene.

It was early. The sun was just beginning to ascend, throwing bright light through the curtains. It was Sunday, and would prove to be another warm day. Dan turned around and buried his head in his pillow. He was pretty comfortable where he was, and felt no urge whatsoever to leave his bed. He would have to work again tonight, but that was later, and not to be worried about right now.

Eventually, he reached around for his phone, which was supposed to be lying under his pillow somewhere. When he found it, he unlocked it to check the time, but found, apart from the clock, something else waiting for him.

**Sunday, 07:02**

_Good morning, sunshine <3 Want to grab some lunch later?? xx phil_

Dan closed his eyes, and smiled.

Everything in life is subjective, that he knew. He, as a maybe-not-so-average teenage boy, also knew that some people were dicks and that, generally, life is shit. He was aware of these things, had built his life around them, and lived with them. But, though nothing in the world is certain, and catastrophe is waiting around every corner, he was also quite certain that, eventually, things would work out.

It would be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> Dan is a trans boy in this fic (✿◠ヮ◠)
> 
> for comments contact me on [tumblr](http://rvmours.tumblr.com)


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